Bitter Mana
by Matyrfae
Summary: Random stories surrounding Imoen Hawke and her broody elf. Rated M for later chapters...maybe.
1. Love Remains

**AN: Bioware owns everything...damn it.**

"Mama…" There was no answer…just the steady echoes of the earlier combat against the stone walls of the hell they were in.

"Mama…" She shook her mother…then shook her harder.

"Mother…you cannot leave me!" She screamed. Her mother was the only one left…the only one left who understood…who cared…no matter what magic she possessed.

Strong hands clasped her shoulders, "She's gone Hawke…" Aveline's soft voice flowed like ice water through her being.

"No! She is not gone!" It was a wail, pitiful and fragile…becoming shriller as it reverberated off the walls. Meanwhile her mother's body was growing cold in her arms…

"Mother…don't leave me alone…no one else cares…please…" She begged the lifeless face, beautiful even with the obvious desecration.

_He_ was there…but it was not his arms around her. She wanted more than anything to throw herself into his embrace…to bury her face in his neck and breathe in the smell of foreign spices and Tevinter leather…but Fenris would more likely shove her away in disgust, and her heart would not be able to take that.

"Hawke…" Aveline tucked her head under her chin, rocking her slightly. Imoen felt her body slacken under her mother's corpse…

"Don't leave me Mama…" She sobbed before leaning forward and burying her face in her mother's shoulder.

. . .

She didn't sleep…refused to eat, and reveled in her body's newfound weakness. She was not meant to be a fighter…no matter what the others said.

"Hawke…please, we're all begging you…please eat." Anders begged. He had been a good friend and a great comfort, but he was not enough. The person who was happened to be conveniently absent from this intervention of sorts and Imoen would be stubborn until her last breath if she had to.

. . .

Hawke wiped her face against her pillow. She hadn't left her bed for weeks…her ribs had begun to show, and her face had started to become gaunt. She was looking more like a ghost with each passing day.

There was a soft padding noise…the quietest of footsteps, and then the bed registered a change in weight. The smell hit her and she instantly stiffened.

"I…do not know what to say but I am here." His voice thundered through her, like an earthquake, causing a slight tremor to wrack her slim form.

"Come to gloat?" She spat.

"Why would I gloat?" He seemed genuinely confused.

She turned over, her quicksilver eyes meeting his dark green…

"A blood mage took my mother, haven't you been ranting and raving ever since I met you on how mages can never be trusted? How I was asking for something like this to happen? Maker I bet I should consider myself lucky that some other mage got her before I myself became corrupted." She hissed, though her final words turned into a half choked sob.

Fenris frowned, his eyes holding what could almost be interpreted as an ancient sadness, "I did not come here to gloat or to make you angry…"

Hawke turned away from him, clutching her pillow closer to her, "Than why the hell are you here?"

She felt warm hands caress her sides, before encircling her waist, his hands resting against her lower abdomen. She felt soft lips press against the back of her neck before his sigh whispered across her skin, "I came to offer any comfort I could…"

She bit her lip, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to spill out as she turned into his arms, "I want her back…" She whimpered as Fenris clutched her closer to him, kissing the top of her head as she curled up against his body.

Fenris was unaccustomed to losing family members. He'd never held an individual in such a light. Hawke was the closest he'd ever gotten to another being and though he knew the right thing would be to leave yet again, or more accurately to never have gone to her in the first place, he stayed in her arms. He was determined to be there for her, though he knew this wasn't permanent…it couldn't be. The hunters would come for him eventually and he'd be damned if he was going to endanger her even more. She already had a bright red target painted across her back just from associating with him…if they lived together? She'd get killed…without a doubt.

No, being with her was out of the question, but here he was…in her bed once again. He couldn't really leave her. He'd tried…Maker had he tried, even getting as far as the gates leading out of the city once…but every time he set out to leave he'd see something, nothing big just little things here and there that reminded him of her. Then the red scarf would scratch against his skin and he'd glance at it and feel the invisible shackles around his wrists pull him back to the mansion…back to her.

He wasn't free; he'd simply traded one master for another.

Hawke's silver eyes slid open, brighter than the moon visible from her bedroom windows, "I miss you." She whispered; her face so close their noses were touching.

Fenris closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers as he brought a hand up to caress her face, the one with the red scarf around its wrist, "And I you."

He re-opened his eyes to find hers wide with confusion. He shouldn't have said anything…he should have kept silent.

"Then…why?"

"Hawke…please…" She would never understand…or worse, she'd talk him into staying.

Her lips trembled as her eyes filled with tears, "Its cause I'm a mage isn't it…"

"Shh!" He hissed before pressing his lips to hers for a brief moment, "Don't ever say that again."

"I just…"

"Hawke" He was begging her now…

"Alright."

Her hands ran up his arms until they were cradling his face, "How are the markings?"

He stifled a shudder at the sting her contact brought to his skin, "No worse than ever."

She saw through the tough act, they were hurting him and badly.

She turned him away from her, until she was facing his back, she heard him sigh softly as she slid his leather vest from him, exposing his torso. Once the vest was removed he felt her gathering energy, seeing a white light glowing against the wall he faced right before her healing hands caressed his back.

All the tension in his body, all the pain and stress melted instantly as she ran her hands over him. She had only done this for him once before and he had to bite the edge of his pillow to keep from moaning.

As a spirit healer, especially since Anders had begun to tutor her, she was especially skilled at healing burns. She had wondered for the longest time whether the spell would help with Fenris's markings or not…finally convincing him to let her try several months back. It ended up erasing all pain, as if he'd never been branded. Sadly, the effect didn't last long…but the small break from the agony was miracle enough for the elf.

"Thank you" He whispered hoarsely.

"Anytime love…" He heard her murmur.

He turned back to face her, pulling her close. Her warm breath tickled his skin as she pressed her face against his neck, her leg moving to lay over his hip almost possessively as she nuzzled his shoulder. He caressed her back, tracing invisible patters down her spine as he kissed her neck just below her ear. It had been ages since he'd been with her…and knowing he had to leave again made the whole situation bittersweet. He was going to regret this later, he knew it.

"Fenris" She breathed against his shoulder, her lips were soft as she pressed a kiss to his skin, nipping gently as she moved up his shoulder to his neck, before finally stopping at his ear.

"Imoen" He responded gruffly, he was doomed…Sweet blood of Andraste he was so doomed.

"Thank you for being here for me." She whispered, ghosting her lips over his before falling asleep.

. . .

When she woke the next morning he was already gone. Her disappointment evaporated though, as she realized the good-bye would have been much more painful.

"Hawke?" Anders's face peered around the door as he hesitantly entered, not sure whether she was decent or not. The healer had stayed over while she grieved, always at hand whenever she broke down. Imoen couldn't have asked for a better friend.

"Hey" She greeted him softly.

"Hawke, are you feeling any better today? Sweetheart you really should eat something…you're going to get sick if you don't."

His face was tight with concern as he reached out for her hand. Anders was the brother she never got to have in Carver and she knew she'd never be able to repay his kindness.

"Actually…yea, I am a little hungry."

His whiskey colored eyes widened in surprise, "R-really?"

"Yes" She smiled, Anders mirroring the expression before stepping forward to give her a hug.

"What can I get you?" He asked into her shoulder.

"Mmm…muffins. Cinnamon muffins please." She felt more than heard him chuckle before kissing her forehead and moving towards the door.

"An excellent choice if I do say so myself, I'll see what Orana can do." He winked at her before leaving.

Imoen smiled as she turned to the pillow beside hers. It still had an indent in the middle and she briefly pressed her face into it, inhaling deeply. It still smelled of him…Maker she couldn't get enough of his smell.

She pulled back from the pillow, smiling at the sunlight streaming in from the window before slipping out of bed and moving to her dresser to grab her clothes, it was going to be a busy day.


	2. Secret Gifts

The streets of Hightown had been host to many strange pairings…though each shopkeeper or stall owner had yet to see anything like the group currently browsing the market.

It consisted of a pirate, a dwarf, a mysterious looking woman, and the main object of all the stares…a white haired, tattooed elf with a sword almost as long as he was tall strapped across his back. He followed a few steps behind the others, a grim expression on his face and Maker protect whoever made eye contact with him.

They were shopping…Fenris HATED shopping. As they entered yet another shop he suddenly got the urge to reach into his own chest and rip out his heart. ANYTHING to get out of this…

"OOOH what do you think of this?" Isabela's voice rang out as she picked up a particularly revealing garment.

"I think you show enough skin for all the women in our merry band of misfits already Izzy." Imoen quietly responded, her cheeks flushing a delicious red as she glanced away from the corset. Fenris loved it when she blushed for it began at her ears before spreading down her long neck and flaring across her cheeks. He instantly cursed himself for noticing…he was supposed to be ignoring those thoughts not entertaining them.

"Once again you get in the way of my fun, you prude!" Isabela teased, picking up an even more revealing one…though this one was silver instead of the earlier red, "Oh Fenris!" She sang, shoving Imoen against the wall she leaned against, holding the corset up against the young mage's chest before giving him a wicked grin, "Doesn't this bring out her eyes?"

Fenris couldn't help himself…the image of Imoen in the corset flashed in his head for the briefest instant. He stared at it, then up at Imoen whose blush had darkened considerably before turning and immediately leaving the shop. He could not stay…not with that image and definitely not while he was wearing skin tight leather armor.

"Izzy!" Imoen hissed, shoving her friend away before she set the blasted undergarment on fire, "I thought you were going to behave!"

Isabela had dissolved into a fit of giggles, leaning against Varric who was having troubles keeping a straight face.

"His face, did you see it? Maker did you see his expression Varric?" Isabela howled with laughter.

"I saw it crystal clear Rivaini" Varric chuckled, before seeing the sorrowful look on Imoen's face.

As Isabela moved on he approached the mage, "Are you alright Luna?" She smiled at her little nickname, Varric giving it to her as soon as he saw her eyes were the same shade as the moon.

"No Varric…I-I'm not." She murmured. He watched her look after where Fenris had left before lowering her head, eyes filling with unshed tears.

"Hey…why the tears? This was supposed to be a happy day." Varric patted her forearm, trying to comfort her.

"I know…I'm sorry…I just haven't gotten used to seeing him since…you know."

"My offer still stands; Bianca can talk to him if you want."

A small smile appeared, and soon her tears stopped, "Thank you Varric," She whispered, giving him a hug, "But that won't be necessary."

He rubbed her back, "You just let me know if you change your mind."

Imoen straightened, smoothing the front of her tunic before moving towards the exit, "Isabela? Quit using the underwear as slingshots and let's go!"

"Maker's mercy you NEVER let me enjoy myself!"

. . .

Imoen found him a few blocks away, "I'm sorry Fenris…I told her to behave herself."

His jade eyes found her silver, emotions she had no idea how to classify flashing briefly before his stoic mask returned, "There is nothing to apologize for."

"Of course there is…" She mumbled, "I'm sorry I put you in an uncomfortable position today, I'm sorry I've made such a mess of things…and most of all I'm sorry I was such a lousy lay." She gave him one last look before turning and walking away.

He leaned heavily against a wall, stunned. Is THAT what she thought was the problem? Andraste's blood, the woman was impossible!

He tore after her, catching her arm before she made it to the crowded street, "Hawke…"

"Fenris…please just let it go, let's just pretend it never happened okay? You're off the hook, don't worry about it."

He growled before pulling her back and shoving her up against the wall.

"You are foolish," He hissed, their foreheads touching, "If you think you did anything wrong that night…it took all my strength to leave, just as its taking all my strength now to not repeat our earlier acts." He allowed his body to fully press up against hers, watching her eyes widen as she realized why he had left earlier.

"Fenris…"

"Hawke, we can't…" He murmured, allowing his lips to ghost over hers briefly, "I wish I could make you see why, just know that it's not you…please believe me when I say it's not you."

She stared at him for a long time, and he momentarily lost himself in her quicksilver eyes…they were fascinating. Especially considering the odd color came from the fact that she was blind. Her sight came from her connection to the Fade…allowing her to see clearly, but constantly draining her mana.

"Alright…" She mumbled.

"Thank you" He replied, crushing her to him in a brief embrace before letting her go, instantly moving away from her. His body felt cold…craving the warmth only she could provide, but he simply clenched his gauntleted hands into fists and walked with her to the rest of their little group.

Varric nodded in their direction, "Everything alright?"

"Yes…" Imoen sighed, giving the dwarf a reassuring smile before continuing on.

. . .

Imoen loved the Hightown market. She never bought anything…but she loved to look. She would pick up and admire silks, taking in their unique colors before letting the fabric slip through her fingers back into their cases. Isabela gave a soft exclamation as they approached a rack of ribbons.

"Oh, look here Hawke! It's the same color as your eyes…" Hawke smiled at the shiny material, watching it glisten in the sun.

"It is lovely…but I can't wear ribbons." Her hand instantly traveled to her incredibly short, black hair.

"Why don't you grow your hair out? I never understood…I mean I know you kept it short while working for Athenril but you're practically a Noble now."

"Yes well, it's for sentimental reasons."

Fenris instantly tuned in to their conversation, leaning away from Varric and the knives they had been admiring.

"Do tell Lovie…" Isabela cooed as she bent to examine the jewels on display below the ribbons.

"Well, see Bethany and I were both mages…and we often made mistakes in our earlier lessons with magic." Imoen giggled, the sound instantly causing the elf's lips to twitch into a smile, "So our mother cut off all our hair and said we had to keep it short until we learned to not set it on fire."

Isabela laughed, loudly, causing several passersby to turn and stare at the strange woman, "That's priceless, you should tell Varric…have him put it in that story of yours he's working on."

Imoen gave another soft laugh before turning back to the ribbons, shaking her head at Isabela, "No, I think that one I'll keep to myself…maybe I will grow my hair out though…" She mused. Fenris saw the longing in her eyes as she examined the many hair pins and nets…all encrusted with jewels that glinted in the sunlight, casting rainbows about the stall they were in.

The two women moved on…though Fenris lingered at the stall, none of the jewelry seemed to fit Imoen though…he decided to look elsewhere.

. . .

"Distract her please, Varric." The dwarf jumped as Fenris's gauntlet clamped around his shoulder.

"Maker's blood, don't make me jump like that again Broody." Fenris's jaw clenched at his particular nickname but he decided to refrain from commenting this time.

"I apologize for startling you, but please…distract her for me?"

"Do I dare detect a hint of emotion from you? I think I might faint…"

Fenris growled.

"I want to get Hawke something…it's at that stall over there, please distract her so she doesn't see me get it."

"Pardon me for discouraging this…but you left her Fenris, getting her presents isn't going to make it hurt less." The dwarf then glared at him, "And I'm not about to allow you to toy with my Luna's emotions."

"She's not going to know it's from me, just please distract her?"

Varric sighed, "Fine…" He turned towards the two women, "Ladies! Come hither, I have an object of great beauty for you to behold!"

Isabela and Imoen soon appeared, "What is it Varric?"

Both ooh'd and aah'd over the crystals he revealed, Imoen actually squealing when he mentioned they were upgrades for staves. Fenris slipped away, completely unnoticed.

He approached the stall warily, most of the merchandise bringing up unpleasant memories. They were Tevinter wares, and a lot of what was on display he remembered Hadriana having.

"See anything you like Messere?" The stall owner asked.

Fenris didn't answer for a long time, examining each piece of jewelry carefully. Finally he found what he was looking for…Most female magisters wore them, she'd be able to wear it even with her short hair, and he was sure it would look beautiful against her skin.

. . .

"Alright Varric, let's leave the broody elf and the prude alone…there's a shot of whiskey at the Hanged Man with my name on it!"

The pirate and dwarf left them, wandering off towards Lowtown.

"There's Hawke Mansion." Imoen sighed; she stopped awkwardly across the street from her home, unsure of what the appropriate good-bye should be. She knew the one she wanted to give him…but she doubted the city guard would like it if she threw him down on the cobblestones and had her way with him in front of everyone.

"I will see you tomorrow?" She asked softly.

Fenris raised an eyebrow, "For what?"

"Well…it's kind of awkward…" Damn that blush…

"And?" He gestured for her to continue.

"Aveline wants me to help her woo Donnic."

"…"

"Don't look at me like that, she wants us to clear out the area where they'll be on patrol so she can talk to him away from the other guards…I'd do it myself but-"

"The bandits would rip you limb from limb before you could even summon an arcane bolt." Fenris felt his body tense at the thought of her out there alone.

"Exactly…so meet you at the front gates tomorrow?"

"I will be there." He moved to leave but turned back, unable to ignore her sadness.

He reached out, pulling her head towards his and placing the smallest of kisses against her forehead, "It's not you…" He whispered against her skin, "please stop thinking it's you." And then he was gone.

Imoen growled in frustration before moving towards her house.

. . .

"Mistress Hawke!" Orana's high pitched voice rang out through the entrance hall.

"What is it Orana?" Hawke came down the stairs, still in her nightgown.

"There's a package for you…"

"At this hour? I thought the couriers went home after dark…"

"It was sitting on the doorstep."

"Interesting…" It was a thin, wooden box, the woodwork held intricate carvings across the lid…

"Well are you going to open it?" Leandra's soft voice called from the top of the stairs.

"Yes" Imoen murmured, lifting the lid and gasping.

Delicate white flowers rested against blue satin cushioning, some of the petals falling out of the box to flutter towards the floor. Nestled amongst the flowers was a silver chain…and woven into the chain were the most stunning gemstones, though Hawke didn't know their name. They were white, but carried a bluish sheen to them when they shifted in the moonlight. The color reminded her of Fenris's markings when they began to fade after he used his abilities. Framing each gemstone were the tiniest silver leaves and vines she'd ever seen…the delicate silver glowing against her skin. She lifted it from the box, handing the container to Orana.

"Let me see" Her mother whispered, reaching for the jewelry. Leandra sighed happily as she lifted the chain, smiling as she shifted it in the light, "What a lovely present."

"Sadly the necklace is too small though…look there's no clasp and it won't fit over my head…"

"Darling, this isn't meant to be worn as a necklace…here" she stepped towards her daughter, Leandra gently placing the silver chain on top of her head, once she had it adjusted the gemstones rested perfectly across Imoen's forehead. It was a coronet.

"Ooh…" Imoen gasped, rushing towards a mirror, "Ooh!" She smiled at her reflection, she looked like a princess. Well…a princess in a nightgown.

"That color looks lovely; it's the same as your eyes." Leandra stood behind her daughter, resting her head on the girl's shoulder, "To which suitor are we sending our thanks?"

"Oh hush…" Imoen rolled her eyes, "Like I've had the time to entertain suitors."

"This is quite the gift darling and not one only a friend would send…"

"Mother…I do not have a suitor; I don't know who sent this. Maybe Varric?" He might have gotten it to cheer her up.

"Does the dwarf have that kind of coin?"

"Have you completely forgotten how we got this mansion?" Imoen smirked, "Of course he's got the money mother."

"Well, a gift like this needs a proper thank you…be sure to find out who sent it." She kissed her daughter's shoulder, giving her an affectionate squeeze before returning to her room.

Imoen smiled after her mother before turning back to the mirror, instantly wishing she were wearing something finer than a nightgown. She felt pretty, and she didn't feel that way often. She turned her head this way and that, delighting in how the stones glistened and changed color…they shifted from white to almost blue, the effect dazzling.

"You look beautiful Mistress." Orana murmured.

Imoen turned towards the girl, "Would you like to try it on?"

Orana's eyes widened, "Can I?" She breathed.

"Of course! Come here…" Imoen placed the coronet on top of the girl's head, adjusting the stones, "Now look, see? You're beautiful too."

. . .

Fenris gulped at the bottle of wine Varric had gotten him. That had to have been the most awkward outing he'd ever had with Hawke. He hoped Aveline was grateful…he sure as hell wasn't.

Carver sat across the table, speaking with Merrill about the Circle. Fenris had to stifle the urge to punch the new templar recruit square in the face…still not having forgiven him for betraying Hawke. He had to admit the boy was keeping his new friends off her back though, secretly distracting the templars from any hint of magic surrounding the Amell mansion.

Varric and Isabella were playing cards with Anders…though the abomination was losing and making sure everyone knew what an injustice it was.

"This is bullshit." Anders whined, "Maker, I run a free clinic, go easy once in awhile!"

"I'm sorry Blondie…at this table you're nothing to me, now pay up." Isabela smirked over her cards, fully smiling as Anders swore under his breath before slipping two sovereigns across the table.

The front door to the tavern opened, and Fenris instantly smiled.

Imoen entered, the coronet on her head and a sweet smile on her face. Isabella and Merrill instantly surrounded her, touching the gemstones and carrying on like it was a crown of diamonds.

"Is that?" Varric leaned over towards him.

"Yes…it suits her don't you think?"

"You're an extremely confusing individual you know that?" Varric responded, going back to his cards and slapping Anders's hand away from his lost earnings.

"You look ridiculous." Carver stated as Imoen took a seat next to him.

"Shut up" She said, smiling at the table top as a blush crept across her face, "I think it's pretty."

"Shall I call you princess instead of Luna now?" Varric chuckled.

"Luna is fine…now where's my drink?"

"You don't drink sis…"

"I know, I want water"

Varric smiled before dropping his cards, "Coming right up Luna."

The group slowly dwindled down to Isabela, Varric, Merrill, Fenris, and Imoen… The first two were quite drunk, and so Merrill escorted them to bed.

Imoen moved to sit next to Fenris, leaning in and kissing his cheek, "Thank you."

He groaned, "How did you find out?"

"Let's start with the obvious…the jewelry came from a Tevinter stall, you should have removed the tag…secondly the carvings on the box were Tevinter rune designs, of which I'm very familiar." She nudged him with her elbow, "And finally, those flowers in the box are the same as the ones on the vines around your mansion door..." She giggled.

"Just wanted to cheer you up…" He mumbled, embarrassed. Maker he was an idiot…

She leaned into his side, "It did, thank you…" She yawned, "I'm gonna…have to go home now, can barely keep my eyes open."

He wrapped an arm around her before he could stop himself, "Sleep well Hawke." He murmured into her hair.

"You know I would slap the hell out of you if I weren't so tired, you confusing bastard…" She slurred sleepily.

He chuckled in response as she stood; meeting Merrill at the door, both women turned and waved good-bye before leaving.

Fenris finished the rest of his drink before leaving the tavern as well, he made his way back to Hightown through the twisted streets of Old City Slums.

He soon approached Denarius's mansion, shaking his head and laughing at himself as he saw the flowers by the door.

**AN: So one of my friends on Deviantart asked for this chapter...his prompt was that Hawke gives Fenris gifts, but what kind of gift would he get her? I hope I wrote it well... :)**


	3. Old and New Friends

**AN: So have I mentioned that these chapters aren't really in any order? I haven't? Okay, well I'm letting yall know now ;) This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Emantsal who's reviews always make me smile. :D**

Imoen hated mornings…she hated the lack of proper sunlight, the overly cheery people who never seemed to get that not everyone was a morning person, most of all…she hated the birds.

They were there…flitting about atop the roofs of the lower houses in Old City Slums. Their chirping causing her to cringe and wish that she could fireball the lot of them…smile at their charred little corpses…damn them.

It was early…far too early for her liking but they had a long way to travel. Sundermount was waiting for them…

She entered the Hanged Man, where everyone had agreed to meet. She felt lonely…missing Fenris who had left before she woke up for reasons he had neglected to tell her.

Isabela, Varric, and Anders were already there…Isabela trying in vain to start a card game with the others.

"Maker's breath woman, do you think I'm made of coin?" Anders groaned. Isabela pouted.

"Well I know Varric is…so what's your excuse?" She turned her amber eyes towards the dwarf.

"I'm too tired to come up with a good excuse…" The dwarf seemed about as much of a morning person as Imoen.

"You're no fun anymore…Maker what happened to you two?" She looked up as Imoen approached, the young mage situating herself in the pirate's lap.

"And how is my other little kitten doing this fine morning?" Isabela sang, wrapping her arms around the mage.

"Mmmrg" Imoen groaned, "Too early…shut up."

She loved Isabela's laugh, it was loud and obnoxious, the sound only made better by the fact that the woman didn't give a damn about it.

"Aw, my sweet little kitten didn't get enough beauty sleep!" Her hand combed through Imoen's short black hair before trailing down her spine in the most pleasant of massages.

Imoen felt the sounds of her companions' conversation slowly begin to fade as she began to fall asleep…dozing in and out until Isabela nuzzled her shoulder, "Wakey wakey my dear, your wolf has finally arrived…"

Imoen's eyes snapped open, practically falling out of the pirate's lap and looking towards the entrance of the tavern. Sure enough, the shock of white hair and markings unmistakable at the door.

She ran…picking up the skirts of her robes as she neared him, leaping into his arms.

He let out a startled yelp before catching her, twirling her slightly to hide his momentary lack of balance.

"I was only gone for a few hours…" He said, sounding somewhat amused.

"A few hours too long" She murmured into his neck, shivering slightly as his clawed gauntlets trailed down her back, his teeth nipping at her ear lobe.

Fenris backed up into a corner near the entrance so they were out of the way, smiling as he felt her lips travel down his neck, following one of the markings before she came back up to kiss him fully.

"If this is what I get on return, I may leave more often…" He chuckled against her lips.

Imoen pulled away slightly, her silver eyes wide, "I just…was worried…that-" He kissed her roughly before she could finish, nipping her bottom lip and tugging ever so gently.

"I already promised you…never again." He pulled her to him, tucking her head under his chin, "I swear to you I will never leave you again, I will have to either die or be dragged away."

Her arms slid up his back, "That's good to know…" She whispered; the smile on her face beautiful beyond words, "The same can be said for me."

He pressed his forehead to hers, sighing happily.

"I love you Fenris."

"And I you"

"Hey lovebirds!" Anders catcalled, "Aren't we supposed to be off questing and whatnot?"

Fenris growled, after three years of looking but not being able to touch he HATED getting interrupted with Imoen.

"Please let me kill him."

Imoen giggled stealing another kiss, this one soft and sweet, before stepping back and heading towards the group.

. . .

"So…I'm a bit confused…" Varric mumbled as they entered the cave, "Isn't the whole point of hiding supposed to be your enemies NOT getting your location? Why would the assassin have the Dalish tell us where he is?"

Imoen shuddered as she moved down a passage, remembering the last time she came through here with Merrill. She felt cold steel against the bare skin of her wrist and looked up into warm jade eyes…Fenris giving her a comforting smile as if he knew what bothered her. She returned it, before addressing her dwarven companion, "He certainly doesn't sound like a cruel murderer to me…I'm beginning to think Nuncio lied to us…"

Isabela cackled, "Beginning to think? My dear, Antivans are NEVER that honest, I knew he was lying almost from the first sentence!"

"And you withheld that little bit of insight until now, why?"

Isabela shrugged, as if it was nothing, "Figured we were all on the same page…"

Imoen groaned, her grip on her staff tightening.

Things were going well and relatively violence free until Imoen felt the ground begin to tremble…flashes of her time here with Merrill again invading her thoughts.

"Maker no…" She whimpered. Fenris tensed beside her, instantly drawing his blade and pushing her behind him.

"I thought we killed it." He growled.

The Varterall moved forward, causing the ground to shudder under them. Imoen stumbled, almost losing her staff before Fenris caught her.

Isabela's daggers sang as she whipped them out of their sheaths, "Obviously it had a spare, now let's move little wolf!" She cried before running towards the monster.

"Come back to me in one piece." Imoen murmured; voice so low only Fenris could hear. He turned to her, lowering his blade as his mouth met hers.

"Always" He breathed before following Isabela.

Anders exchanged a glance with her, "Offense or defense?"

Imoen smiled at her friend, "What do you think?" her skin shimmered with electricity.

"Alright then, shout out if you need healing!"

"Will do!" She called, moving closer to the monster while Anders backed way off.

Varric and Bianca danced around the creature, Imoen releasing lightning and spirit bolts in equal amounts. Fenris swiped at the legs while Isabela leapt and twirled atop the thing's body, stabbing at just the right points to cripple its movement.

"Isabela, move!" Imoen cried. The pirate jumped away from the creature, tumbling across the ground as she landed.

She gathered her energy, feeling her limbs go numb and her heart momentarily stop as Cone of Cold took effect, freezing the monster's limbs in place long enough for Fenris to chop off its head.

Imoen shuddered as the magic drained from her extended arms, Anders supporting her briefly until she regained her strength.

"Please tell me…" She panted, "that we killed it…and killed it DEAD."

Anders chuckled as Fenris rushed over, "What happened?" He snapped, tilting her chin up and examining her face. Imoen saw Anders smirk and inwardly groaned.

"Well Fenris you see there's this thing called 'mana' and we mages often feel drained after we fire huge spells like Cone of Cold which costs quite a bit of 'mana' actua-"

"Shut it abomination I was not speaking to you." Fenris snarled, his markings flaring to life.

"Hey…" Imoen grabbed his chin and jerked his face towards hers, "be nice please."

Fenris sighed heavily, scowling, "Fine." He said, though she felt his grip around her waist tighten.

"Wow…" Anders said, his eyes wide in mock surprise, "she really has you whipped doesn't she?" He jerked backwards, avoiding Fenris's gauntlet by mere centimeters.

Imoen moved to tease Anders about his lack of a love life when a low and throaty laugh echoed against the cave walls, the young mage realizing the laugh didn't come from any of her companions.

"Ah, it is fun to be whipped yes? With chains especially…Why take such offense my glowing friend?" An extraordinarily attractive elf appeared. He had light blonde hair, shoulder length, and dark skin that complimented his amber eyes well. A black tattoo curled down the left side of his face, somehow accentuating his handsome features. Imoen tried real hard not to notice how well the leather of his armor clung to his perfect figure.

"Well I'll be damned…Zevran?" Isabela stepped forward.

The elf's eyes widened, "Truly? Oh my dear sweet Isabela it has been far too long!" He let out another throaty laugh as they briefly embraced.

"You two know each other?" Imoen asked, exchanging curious glances with both Anders and Fenris. Varric seated himself on a nearby rock, beginning to clean Bianca. He didn't seem surprised, though with Isabela it was hard to find people she DIDN'T know.

"Oh yes, quite well." Isabela purred, the elf named Zevran stretching his neck out as she caressed his face. He then abruptly stepped away, and Imoen had to hold back laughter at the pirate's look of disappointment.

"I am sorry my dear, but I must abstain from temptation." He turned back to the rest of them, "So! You have made it all this way Champion, what now?"

"You know I'm the Champion?"

"But of course! Tales of your skill and beauty run rampant throughout Kirkwall." His eyes twinkled and a wicked smirk quirked his full lips as he winked at her.

Fenris saw the blush on her skin beginning and instantly wondered what the painted elf would look like with TWO smiles. That was HIS blush.

Imoen straightened at his side, her tone becoming businesslike, "I was informed by a man named Nuncio that you are a dangerous murderer."

Zevran threw his head back and laughed, "Ah beloved, the same can be said of all of us I think, but did the fair and just Nuncio also mention that I am an escaped Crow and they want me back?"

Imoen was silent for a few moments, "I assume you aren't talking about the bird?"

Zevran's mouth fell open as he clutched at his chest in mock horror, "Maker have mercy, do not tell me you've never heard of the Crows?"

"You know your former organization is not as well known as you think Zev" Isabela chuckled, beginning to sharpen one of her blades.

"Perish the thought dear lady…" Zevran shook his head sadly, "I am undone…truly." He straightened and answered her question, "The Crows are a guild of assassins based in Antiva, though we take jobs all over. I used to be one of them before I met the Warden…unfortunately the Crows are masters of grudges and haven't stopped trying to kill me."

"That's it!" Anders cried, "I KNEW your name was familiar! She spoke of you…said she was hunting you though…did she ever catch you?" Imoen always forgot that Anders was a warden and had actually traveled with the Hero of Ferelden.

Imoen watched Zevran's expression soften…and a tiny, almost nonexistent smile appear, "Yes…many times…" He shook his head as if to clear it, "Anyway, Nuncio is just the most recent in a long line of assassins to try and bring me back."

"I don't understand," Imoen said, "All you did was leave them, why would they want to kill you for that?"

"My dear woman, leaving the Crows is offense enough to them." He stepped towards her, "So now that we have established who I am and what I've done…the decision remains to be made. Will you take me or leave me? You could even manhandle me if you like!" He winked at her again.

Fenris felt his blood begin to boil as yet another blush crept across her face. If Zevran continued to act this way he'd be lucky to even survive the trip back to Nuncio.

"You mean you would come with me willingly? Not even try to fight?"

"Speaking from experience here, I KNOW when I am outmatched…you are not the warden, but you certainly have the manpower to strike me down without a moment's thought! I wouldn't dream of fighting, and besides," He reached out and cupped her cheek, "Why would I want to harm such a beautiful face?"

There was a sharp clack of metal as Fenris's gauntlet gripped Zevran's wrist, throwing the elf's hand away from her face. He snarled before Imoen's hand pressed against his chest, "Fenris…" She whispered.

"Oh ho ho!" Zevran laughed, "Oh yes this is priceless! Ah…jealousy…" He pretended to swoon.

Imoen looked into Fenris's eyes, concerned…but secretly LOVING it all, "Hey…calm down love." She murmured. Fenris seemed to get even tenser before heaving a tremendous sigh and relaxing.

"So what are we going to do with him?" Varric asked.

Imoen turned to Zevran, "I'm not going to take you back to someone who lied to me…and you don't sound like the vicious killer they described."

Zevran chuckled, "Oh I am quite vicious dear maiden, though usually in more intimate settings."

Oh that was it…the elf was going to die. Once again Imoen blocked him, a small smile gracing her perfect lips before looking over her shoulder, "Then you are free to go Zevran, Andraste guide you."

The elf bowed, "I feel I should warn you fair Champion…the Crows do not tolerate failure…Nuncio will most likely try to kill you for letting me go."

"We are prepared, don't worry." She called as her group moved away.

"Many thanks Champion, I hope to return the favor some day!" Imoen turned to respond but found Zevran had vanished.

"He's sneaky like that…" Isabela whispered in her ear before moving forward.

As they exited the cave, the group split in two. Anders, Isabela, and Varric joking amongst themselves while Imoen and Fenris fell behind a few paces.

"Why did you get so upset?" Imoen asked softly.

Fenris looked down at her, "What?"

That small smile reappeared and Fenris was trying to decide whether it was a good or bad thing when she spoke again, "When Zevran flirted with me…why did you get so upset?"

Fenris smiled, "Oh…that." She yelped as he jerked her into an alcove, shoving her up against the rock wall. She moved to make a snarky remark when Fenris crushed her mouth to his. The kiss was hungry, possessive…her hands snaked into his hair as his arms wrapped around her, a hand skimming down her thigh to hook behind her knee and hitch her leg up around his hip. She moaned into his mouth, whimpering slightly as he pulled away. "Because you are MINE." He growled, and then walked away.

Imoen fell against the wall, waiting for her breathing to return to normal and the room to cool down before following. He was waiting for her, his smile wicked as sin.

. . .

They neared the camp, Fenris quickly calculating their chances, prepared to shove Imoen behind him and cut them all down the instant things turned hostile.

"Nuncio." Imoen called, the taller of the men turning towards her.

"Greetings Champion!" He called; a look of confusion crossed his face, "Where is the assassin? I do not see him with you…"

Imoen examined her staff, fingering the crystals at the top, "You know Nuncio, I don't like being lied to…" Her voice had gone low…deadly almost and Fenris felt his skin flush with heat. Now was not the time though…

Nuncio moved to speak but was soon faced with the dagger-like end of Imoen's staff, "I know what you are…I know of the Crows."

"Ah so Zevran spoke with you eh? Weaved his little sob story…"

"No" Imoen snarled, "He was actually refreshingly honest, which is more than I can say for your lot. I do not like being used for someone else's dirty work Nuncio."

The man sighed, shaking his head, "Such a shame…but it matters not, you will die for your failure!"

Fenris watched as lightning rippled around Imoen before jumping to Nuncio, the man jerking in pain before crumpling to the ground.

Violence erupted in the small camp, Imoen barely able to control where her magic landed. There was a yelp and a sickening crack behind her. She spun, coming face to face with Zevran.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, stunned.

He winked at her, "Returning the favor dear lady."

She smiled, nodding gratefully at him before going back to shooting lightning at fools. The battle raged on.

Soon Fenris was outnumbered, finding there were more men than he thought. He hazarded a glance Imoen's way to find her pinned with Anders, hopelessly trying to heal her and fight off the assassins at the same time.

Varric and Isabela weren't doing so well either, the pirate's leg sliced open above the knee and Varric bleeding from his wrist.

The elf Zevran received a stunning blow to the head before collapsing.

Imoen was exhausted…she'd been drained of all her mana. Anders was doing his best but it was only a matter of time before they lost. Was this it then? She honestly hadn't expected to go out like this…

There was a cry from above, a dark figure slipping from the shadows. Imoen's eyes widened as she saw who it was…

As a young girl she'd heard tales of the Dalish, legends of the ferocity with which their hunters fought…their skills with a bow unmatched by any other. This woman proved all those stories true.

She was tall for an elven lady, her frame lithe and muscular. She leaped from a rocky outcropping, drawing three arrows as she fell and firing them all at once…Each found their mark…right between the eyes of their respective assassins.

With her help the battle finished quickly. Anders making his rounds until all were healed.

Imoen stared at the woman…for she was hard not to look at. The Dalish elf holstered her bow, adjusting her quiver. Both were intricately carved…the designs depicting halla and other forest creatures. Sebastian would have been drooling…

Her skin was pale, but rosy…her eyes large, and glowing a soft silver color that marked her as a warden. Long, thick auburn hair framed her face and curled down her back in a loose braid. She had long, delicate pointed ears that held silver hoops, though one side held a small golden stud. She wore soft green plate armor, the chainmail possessing an intricate pattern of vines and leaves. It looked like she'd taken it straight from the ancient tombs of Arlathan. Imoen then noticed the webbing of finely detailed tattoos that stretched across her face, mainly around her eyes and mouth though Imoen could see they spread below the collar of her armor. This was the Hero of Ferelden…

Her gaze locked with Imoen's for only a moment before she turned towards Zevran.

"Ma Vhenan…" She purred; her voice rich and sultry. Imoen ached for her to continue speaking, "Must I always fight your battles?"

Zevran looked shocked before a huge smile spread across his face, "I've missed you" He murmured. Imoen didn't know him very well…but she could definitely tell the sudden change in personality. He looked at the Dalish woman with reverence…as if he worshiped her.

The Dalish woman stepped forward, jumping into Zevran's arms and kissing him. Imoen blushed as the woman wrapped her legs around his waist, the kiss seeming far too intimate for where they were.

Anders cleared his throat loudly, the Dalish woman's face jerking towards his direction. Her look of utter fury melted as she regarded Anders, slipping out of Zevran's grip before leaping into Anders's.

"Anders!" She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck. She even giggled as he spun her around.

"Eirene…it's good to see you alive and well." Imoen liked the smile on Anders's face, it was a true one.

The Dalish woman named Eirene turned back to Zevran, once reaching his side her arm snaked around his waist possessively. His wrapped around her shoulders and he leaned in to nibble her ear.

"Now who are your companions Lethallin?" She asked Anders, glancing about the group. Zevran introduced everyone, finally coming to Fenris and Imoen.

"Anderan A'tishan Champion." Eirene said, moving extremely close. Imoen felt the elf was staring straight into her soul…and seeing everything. Eirene smiled, stepping back, "It is rare I find Shem so pure…you remind me of Alistair."

"I met him…during the Qunari invasion…" Eirene's smile widened.

"Yes…I had learned he traveled by Kirkwall then. Sadly that was the last I heard of his whereabouts." Her piercing gaze moved to Fenris.

"Elgar'nan, and who might you be?" Imoen didn't like how she looked at him…her eyes raking his form…her smile had become…predatory.

"I am Fenris." He said, seeming oblivious to her obvious desire.

She stepped close to him, then paced around him…examining the elf from every angle.

"Mmmmm, why couldn't you have been in Ferelden during the blight?" She purred.

Imoen and Zevran both growled softly. Eirene and Fenris looked at their lovers with amusement.

"Peace Zevran…you know it is only you in my heart." Imoen could not get over Eirene's voice…

Zevran practically purred as she returned to his side, gripping her tightly to him. "Ah, it is good that I caught you again Ma Vhenan, I was beginning to tire…"

"Wait…caught him…again?" Imoen asked.

A wicked smile stretched Zevran's lips, mirrored by Eirene, "Yes…see Zevran and I play a little game, don't we?" She nipped his ear, her hands sliding up his torso.

"It's my favorite" Zevran purred.

"I hunt Zevran you see…" Eirene laughed, "sometimes for a week…sometimes for a year…"

"But…why?" Imoen could see the two were in love…Zevran's expression one of a chantry priest looking at a statue of Andraste whenever he looked at the Dalish woman.

"I love the thrill of the hunt and Zevran hates commitment." Came her simple reply.

"I don't understand…" Imoen said.

"Zevran and I were together for a year, fighting the blight and travelling all over Ferelden to gain support against the darkspawn and Loghain." Imoen noticed how her voice became bitter at the mention of Loghain… "After the final battle…once my wounds from the archdemon had healed, we quickly found out domestic life wasn't for us." Her eyes became sad, only returning to normal when Zevran leaned in and kissed her temple.

"So I left…but we soon found each other again…and the reunion…" She bit her lower lip, face flushing with color, "Well, I think the phrase 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' seems appropriate…and so the hunt began."

"Oh…" Imoen wasn't really sure how to respond to that. She decided to change the subject, "I feel I must thank you for saving us…I'm sure we would have perished without your aid."

"You are most welcome Champion," She stepped forward again, cupping Imoen's face. The young mage's eyes widened at the gesture.

Eirene smiled warmly, the friendly expression strange coming from a Dalish, "You would've made an excellent Warden Da'len…truly magnificent."

"Eirene" Anders snapped; his eyes intense.

"Peace, Lethallin…there is no blight and I am not in a conscripting mood. Besides," Eirene's expression became hard, "I have to deal with my former clan…I don't have time to orchestrate a Joining."

"What's wrong with your clan?" Imoen was unsettled at the rage in Eirene's eyes.

"Have you not spoken with them? Flat ears…the lot of them. They are not Dalish and do not deserve the name…" She hissed. "My people are too proud…we scream for equality but shut out all possibility with our harsh prejudice at the same time. My clan has become too closed minded and I grow sick of the hatred…of the… the ignorance!" She kicked at the dirt. "Fools all! Even…" Her eyes became sad, "Even Marethari…I've watched them for a time now, have not spoken…only seen and what I have witnessed makes me sick!" Her silver eyes seemed to glow brighter as she voiced her fury.

"Peace, my warden…" Zevran crooned, pulling her close. Her eyes slid shut for the briefest moment.

"They are lost…my people are lost and shall never be found. Not while they act like children…they are worse than any Shemlen."

"There's Merrill!" Imoen offered, "She doesn't seem to be prejudiced…"

"Merrill is with you?" Imoen nodded and soon found Eirene in her face, "How is she? Why did she leave the clan? What is she doing?"

Anders pulled her back, Imoen laughing at how tiny Eirene appeared next to the tall mage, "I'm sorry Eirene…Merrill's turned to blood magic, she's trying to fix that mirror you and Tamlen found."

Eirene froze…her face a mask of horror before she slapped Anders's hands away, pacing and swearing in rapid Dalish. Zevran moved to soothe her but she rushed towards Imoen, "How long?" She asked fiercely, "How long has she been working on it?"

"Several years now…"

"By the dread wolf is she insane?" The elf howled. She quickly moved towards Zevran, "Do you need any supplies Ma Vhenan? Or are you ready to travel?"

"I carry only what I need." He responded. She kissed him, this time tenderly and with enough passion to make Imoen ache for Fenris, "Then let us go…I need to speak with the Keeper." She turned towards Imoen, "You should leave Champion, I assume since these imbeciles lie dead that you no longer need my Zevran?"

Imoen laughed, "No, he's free to go."

"I shall see you in Kirkwall then…though I cannot say exactly when, do you know of a place we may meet?"

"A tavern in Lowtown…it's called the Hanged Man." The elf nodded, before taking Zevran's hand and melting into the forest.

"Well that was…interesting." Varric mused.

"I'm actually amazed you didn't pester her with questions Varric…" Imoen mused as Fenris's hands slid around her waist. The elf rested his chin on her shoulder and she felt herself melt.

"All in good time Hawke…it didn't seem like the appropriate time to bother her…"

"What of you Isabela?" She asked; stifling a gasp as Fenris bit her shoulder, nipping up her neck and nibbling her ear lobe.

"Been there…done that, don't much care for her to be perfectly honest." Isabela snapped as she sharpened her dagger.

"Now this I have to hear…" Varric crowed.

"She's a prude…and far worse than you my darling kitten, when I met her at the pearl she had almost NO sense of humor, and was so far gone to Dalish prejudice it was hard to get a word in edgewise…"

"What about Zevran?"

"Oh they weren't together yet…he's loosened her up quite nicely. Honestly all she needed was to get laid I think…"

"And on that note let's be off…I want to get back to the city before nightfall." Fenris placed a tender kiss against her jugular before stepping away.

Imoen watched him, sighing and thinking they couldn't get back to Kirkwall fast enough.

. . .

"Maker look at that sunset…" Imoen breathed as she heard Fenris approach. They were taking a short break, having just cleared the woods.

"Mmm" He hummed, pulling her against him.

"What do you think of Eirene?"

"Jealous?" He teased.

"No, you know I'd set you on fire if you left me again…seriously, what do you think? Is she trouble?"

"No…" He said, "I think Merrill's in trouble."

"Hmm, good point…should I warn her?"

Fenris rested his chin on her shoulder again, arms wrapped around her waist as they stared out towards the sun, "No…let the Dalish handle it."

"You just don't want me near blood magic…"

"Correct." He growled.

Imoen knew what direction the conversation was going…it was a road they'd been down before and she was tired of bickering. She and Fenris would never see eye to eye on magic, and it was time to accept that and move on.

They stared at the sun for a long time…Imoen finally breaking the silence.

"Honestly have you ever seen anything more beautiful?" She asked.

Fenris looked down at her, his smile warm, "Yes."

She smiled against his lips, feeling more in love with him in that moment than she ever had before.

Whatever issues arose from Merrill and Eirene, they would handle it. Imoen just wanted to enjoy this moment with her elf…she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

**AN2: It's probably pretty obvious that we will be hearing more of Eirene in future chapters...anywho, hope yall like my warden :)**


	4. Words from a Dalish

The wind whispers through the trees, singing soothing songs to me as I glare down at the mountainside that shows me the city of chains. I have yet to go inside its walls, content to just rest on the outskirts of my clan, watching and waiting until I can slip away unnoticed and bid farewell to Marethari. I do not wish my clan to see me…for I cannot look upon them in this state, it is far too heartbreaking.

Merrill…my thoughts flow out to her as I look down upon her new home. What has she become? Blood magic…the Eluvian, she thinks it a relic of the past and my heart shatters at her innocence. She does not know…was not there the day I discovered that doorway into the darkest of worlds. Tamlen saw the depth of evil that swirled behind the glass, clutched me to him as he stared into it with horror so clear on his handsome face.

The mirror…it took everything from me, my life…my love…my family. Tamlen did not survive its corruption, but I did. I always survive; if you do not believe me ask the rotting husk that is the Archdemon.

The wind has grown cold and I shiver. I do not like it here; I miss the woods of Ferelden for they are well known to me. I like to think if I were blindfolded I could find my way to Lothering, or even Denerim through the wilderness.

Warmth envelopes me and I melt against a strong chest, "Ma Vhenan…" I whisper. I smile as he nuzzles my neck, whispering endearments in Antivan against my ear. I have missed him beyond words, my body aching for his every day we are apart but I do not tell him this…those words would scare him away I think. He does not know just how far I have fallen, how much of my heart he holds in his hands.

"Are we to leave my warden?" He purrs in my ear, nipping the lobe before kissing along my jaw.

"Soon…though I fear what is to come." His lips have moved down my neck, coaxing a moan out of my throat as he pulls me back into the cover of the woods. I turn in his arms, a smile I show only for him stretching my lips.

"Chase me" I whisper before breaking from his hold and sprinting deeper into the trees.

"Braska!" He shouts, before laughing and giving chase. He is no Dalish…his boots disturb the underbrush, alerting everything within a mile radius to his presence whereas I am silent as the trees, making not even a whisper of sound as I move.

I lose him in the labyrinth of this forest; my heart is racing my blood is singing. I feel free and it is wondrous. Not many can feel this kinship with nature, and it saddens me for there is much to absorb from wildlife such as this. I was raised among green leaves and wildflowers; I learned from the birds and the deer and took comfort in the arms of willows and mighty oaks. I am at home here…nowhere else is safe.

For a moment my mind travels back to the moments of the Blight, particularly the stifling misery that was the deep roads and Orzammar. I went mad for days down there…Zevran forced to shove a leather strap in my mouth to muffle my screams of agony for the sunlight. I push those thoughts away and allow peace to once again fill my veins with happiness as I run.

I round a tree and spot a clearing, crying out in equal amounts of joy and surprise as Zevran drops from a nearby tree.

We are inches from each other, our eyes lock and we don't move…just drinking the other in for we have not seen ourselves in almost two years. He is older…tanned skin slightly wrinkled around his eyes, blonde hair holding more than a few streaks of grey. I know my dark strands now hold silver ones too…I wonder how much I have changed in his eyes…

I move to speak, but my voice is muffled against his lips as he devours my mouth. His fingers snake into my hair and my heart begins to pound inside my chest. I moan against his lips as my hands reach for clasps and buckles, aching to feel warm flesh instead of leather. His hands are just as needy, slipping chainmail and cloth from my body with almost desperate desire.

Soon I am bare before him and he before me and we fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs. It is a dance we have enjoyed far more times than I can count but each time feels new. Echoes of a distant pain, a time of tears and sorrow prickle at the edges of my mind but his lips banish them away, whispering of his love and devotion…of his adoration as he worships me and I worship him. Our cries pierce the stillness of the forest around us as I come undone in his arms. We cease to be elves…allowing our more animalistic sides to take over and soon there is only him…I drink my Zevran in and allow myself to drown in sensation.

I collapse against him and he holds me close, pulling my hair away from my face as he stares into my eyes. His are warm and appear as if they are liquid gold, the exact opposite of my icy silver orbs that glow even in the dark…a reminder of the duty I am sworn to fulfill. We do not speak of my fast approaching fate…of how I will leave him.

He laughs as his hands sift through my auburn tresses, removing leaves and twigs while I do the same for him. I lean down and trace his tattoo with my lips, smiling as I pull back and his fingers begin tracing the spirals and twists on my skin that mark me of the People. These moments…these little miracles are why I no longer curse the Eluvian's existence…I do not curse Tamlen's curiosity and desire for adventure. For those events brought me to him, and I cannot live without him…he is a part of me, one I could not separate from myself even if I wanted to.

"Ma Vhenan" It is uttered as a prayer as we stand and he dresses me, kissing along my limbs as he fastens the chainmail. He handles me as if I might break, but he knows all too well that I am no fragile flower. I dress him in kind, allowing my lips to caress his skin before it is hidden behind layers of leather.

He pulls me against him, our foreheads touching and he hums appreciatively as I rub my nose against his.

My mirth slowly fades and he tilts my face up to his, the question in his eyes.

"It is time…we must find the Champion…I need to stop Merrill." He nods, kissing me once more before fitting his daggers into their sheaths and fastening my bow and quiver across my back. I allow him to care for me like this…no other man has the privilege. I do not know if Zevran understands how much love is in this gesture of mine…of how hard it was for me to learn to be weak around him, almost as difficult as it was for him to accept that he loved me and allow himself to remain close to me.

He smiles as his fingers reach up to play with the golden stud in my ear, his earring…I have many earrings along my knife ears, but this one…is the most precious. It is his favor, the sign that I am his.

We gather our things and prepare to leave. I still do not know what to do about Merrill, but I have to try…try to make her see…

"I miss this" Zevran murmurs to me as we walk. I smile, leaning against him and resting my head on his shoulder. Our minds going back to when we walked with many, a merry band of misfits wandering across Ferelden to build an army…

"As do I Ma Vhenan…as do I."


	5. In His Own Words

**AN: This is the beginning of the personal chapters for my DA2 stories. I loved writing as Fenris, and honestly it is so tempting to write the rest of Bitter Mana from his perspective...Anywho, I hope yall like this glimpse into my Fenris' head ^.^ Imoen's is still a work in progress, otherwise she'd be first but oh well...Enjoy!**

**Also, Fenris' chapter has a song behind it...it's actually his and Imoen's song: Howl by Florence+the Machine, go listen to it, it fits them so well! :D**

It is a curse…this hate inside me. It's like a virus that has latched onto my brain and has now proceeded to grow and tangle itself about the rest of me. Sometimes if I close my eyes, I can feel it…spreading under my skin, following the markings I despise with every fiber of my being.

No…no I need to stop those thoughts, lest I start glowing. I'm almost as bad as the abomination…Maker my skin burns…every time I move, breathe…it pains me to the point of madness. I do not show it, keep it all inside because I have dealt with the pain all my life it seems, and so I have gotten used to it. I stretch out in my chair by the open window, trying to enjoy the sunlight against my skin. Kirkwall…is a lot warmer than Tevinter in many aspects. I close my eyes; maybe the pain is so bothersome because I haven't slept.

To think after all these years I ASKED for the markings…no, I COMPETED for them. I wonder if it was worth it. Apparently I did it to free my family, but…after what happened with Varania I suppose it wasn't.

I can hear the sounds from the street below…the random chatter of nobles as they pass Hawke manor. It is soothing in a way…Denarius' Mansion is so quiet, sometimes it gets to be too much like his tower in Tevinter and I have to go out and walk until I am calm.

I freeze as a new sound enters…footsteps. Soft, but still loud, the stride is sure…confident…strong…Hawke.

Her fingers comb through my hair as her mouth touches my ear. She kisses along my neck lovingly as I feel a ripple of power and soon her hands slide down my arms and it is the most beloved sensation I have ever felt…I have never told her just how pleasurable the spell is to me, but it erases all pain of the markings. I honestly do not realize how much agony they cause me until the pain is gone.

I can't help it…I moan…quite loudly.

"Mmmm…make that sound again please." She purrs in my ear, nipping the lobe gently.

I change my mind as I grab her waist, pulling her over my shoulder and into my lap. These markings were entirely worth it, every single bloody one.

. . .

She is back. Sitting by the fire with that damned staff across her lap, polishing it with an almost religious focus to her movements.

I have no idea why she visits so often…no idea why she insists on sitting on the hard stone floor, but she does.

Imoen Hawke, from the first moment I saw her, has proven to be one of THE most interesting and confusing individuals I have ever met.

She visits almost on a daily basis, first coming to the mansion a few weeks after helping me with the hunters. After that first night she has started coming regularly and for the life of me I cannot figure out WHY.

Most of the time we just sit in silence, her polishing her staff and me sitting in front of the fire sipping wine from my former master's cellar.

Her staff is a curious thing…golden, gleaming in the dim light of the fire. Most interesting is the curved top, the hook curling over what appears to be a naked woman's body. I had thought her to share the same personality as her other companion, a pirate named Isabela…but found after a night at the Hanged Man that the pirate's favorite game is coming up with such crude, sexual stories as to make her blush scarlet red. Her embarrassment at such talk makes the fact that she carries such a staff even more interesting. I want to ask…but then she might feel compelled to start questioning me and I avoid any opportunity for talking of my past like the plague.

I huff in annoyance, turning back to the fire.

"Something wrong?" She asks; her voice soft. She doesn't speak much…mainly sitting and watching while the others socialize and often when they do try to coax her into chatting she speaks so quietly we have to strain to hear her. This is in no small part due to her brother who takes every chance he can to knock her down a peg.

But Carver is not here and so her voice has dared to rise, startling me out of my mood. I look at her, delivering her somewhat of a glare, "Why are you here?" my voice is far harsher than I had intended and I am shocked to find guilt flood my chest when she flinches.

"I can leave…all you had to do was ask…"

"That's not what I said." I set my glass aside, "You are a mage…I have made it no secret that I do not like your kind and have spoken out against you and that abomination on countless occasions, yet you come here every evening…why?"

She meets my heated gaze and smiles…actually smiles, "You are not Carver." She says, "If I have to be around someone who hates me I'd rather it be someone who is quiet about it." She goes back to polishing the staff though it is already clean to the point of sparkling.

"You are honest…and you don't pry. You don't try to embarrass me or make me feel awkward…you do not bother me at all actually." She smiles again as she works, "It's nice…to be able to be myself without being judged, I mean I'm a mage…no matter what I do you can't possibly think less of me for it." The way she speaks of my supposed hatred for her…how unaffected she is by it, speaks volumes for how badly she has been treated…just for being born a certain way.

While I harbor no love towards her kind, I don't hate her. I actually find I'm upset that she thinks that. What is wrong with me?

"I don't hate you…" I find myself saying.

"But you said-"

"I said you were dangerous…I never said I hated you."

She drops her gaze to her staff, and I watch as her skin flushes pink from the tips of her ears all the way down her neck, "I'm…"The blush darkens, "glad to hear that…"

. . .

It is raining. I hate rain…

The water soaks into my armor and soon I feel as if I am swimming more than running. I reach Kirkwall as it begins to get dark and reward myself by slowing to a walk. I am already drenched, why add exhausted to the mix?

I shouldn't have yelled at her…shouldn't have shrugged away from her touch. Hawke didn't deserve it…she never deserves the anger I throw her way. The look on her face…as I pulled away…the pain was enough to cause my ribs to ache and that scares me almost as much as knowing I have a sister.

Hadriana…was she lying? I was confident in the caverns but now…now that I've had time to think I am unsure. This could all be a last resort trap to lure me to a location Denarius knows of to ambush me.

I growl at nothing in particular, causing the few people passing to give me strange looks. I glare back, unflinching as they hurriedly look away.

My heart still constricts at thoughts of Hawke…but why? Why does she haunt me so?

She is almost everything I hate…a mage, a powerful one at that…and she helps other mages. I almost lost it when she let that group of Starkhaven mages go…the blood magic corruption was so obvious I could taste it and yet she STILL lied right to the Templar's face and allowed them to escape. The abomination was positively beaming with admiration, showering her with praise and all I could do was keep silent and fantasize about his glowing face impaled on a spike.

She knew of my anger…even tried to talk to me about it, but like an idiot I brushed her off and simply seethed with my bitterness while they all moved on.

In all those moments she just gives me this tiny little smile…as if she knows what bothers me. Her patience with my temper is astounding, many times I have expected her to yell…scream…slap me, but she doesn't. A few times she has frowned, but nothing more.

I do not like being the cause of her frowning, it makes me feel…strange. Again though I have no idea why…

I think it is because out of all the companions I have met since meeting her…she is the one that has treated me with the utmost respect. Though I have never hidden my dislike for her kind she has never called me on it, not like the abomination. She has made it clear that she doesn't agree with me, but she respects my views and I have never had that…from anyone.

She also never orders me to do…anything. She asks…allows me to choose by adding the softest little "please?" after every command. It makes me feel…warm. Maker's breath what is happening to me?

I come to the door of what I think is Denarius' Mansion…but it's not…it's Hawke's.

Before I know what's happening I'm knocking on the door…

It opens, and all I see are silver eyes brighter than any full moon.

"F-Fenris?" Her eyes widen as she takes in my condition, "Sweet Andraste, Fenris!" She pulls me inside. I'm soaked to the skin and shivering, my teeth chattering as I stand in the entrance way.

. . .

I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm actually in Hawke's room…HER ROOM…

"I shouldn't be here…" I mumble, even though my body has decided to betray me by tightly wrapping the thick blanket around my slowly warming body. She has taken my soaked armor downstairs for Bodahn to clean.

"Fenris…" Why is it that when she says my name I smile?

I turn to see she's brought up food, nothing extravagant as I would have expected for a house like hers. It's just stew and a few slices of bread.

"I'm sorry the food is nothing impressive, but I figured you needed something warm more than fancy."

I do not respond…well, more accurately my stomach responds for me. She blushes, emitting a very small giggle that has me chuckling in response.

She sits next to me in front of the fire, pushing the tray of food towards me, "Would you like something to eat?" She asks me and I smile as yet again, she doesn't order me.

"Yes…" She sits with me as I eat, staring into the fire…

"You scared me…" She finally speaks and her voice is so quiet I almost think it's my imagination.

"I'm…sorry…" And I am…incredibly sorry…I want to beg her forgiveness…which is a new sensation for me.

"Where did you go?" She asks, her eyes finally finding mine, though she doesn't meet my gaze…looking slightly to the left of my face. She's blind again…

"Why did you stop seeing?"

She closes her eyes and draws her knees to her chest, "My mana…is low, usually I am forced to 'go dark' as my mother calls it at night, lest my mana completely drain…after all the fighting today, and the emotional trauma…I'm a bit weaker than usual." She shivers slightly and it is at that moment I realize she's just revealed a great deal more than she's comfortable with…that I'm hearing something she's let no one else know. I am…honored.

"I went nowhere in particular…" I begin, if she thinks me worthy of her trust I shall return it, "I needed to be alone…clear my head."

"That's understandable…" She muses, face turning back towards the fire, "Was she really so awful?" Her question isn't taunting as the abomination's was…she really wants to know.

"She tormented me often…denying me meals, hounding my sleep. When Denarius angered her especially…" My mind becomes a dark and twisted snarl of black memories and I don't realize that I'm speaking some of them aloud, ones I had vowed to never tell a soul…Before I can stop myself the darkest one slips out…and the feel of Hadriana's body against mine, her nails mercilessly clawing at my flesh slithers across my thoughts…I cringe and shut my eyes, smothering the horrid details far inside…I don't want to think about that…not with Hawke.

"Fenris…" She has tears in her eyes; though she didn't see my reaction…I'm somewhat thankful for that.

Her hands reach out, searching briefly before finding my knees and then I am in her arms. I am not upset…she is. Her tears drip down my shoulder, dampening my neck as she clutches me to her. She whispers how sorry she is against my skin and I shiver. This is the closest I have allowed anyone since my escape…never a handshake, never a clap on the shoulder…absolutely no physical contact…until now.

She stiffens at my reaction, flinching away as she blushes once again. I am beginning to like the sight of it. She returns to looking in the direction of the fire, neither of us saying anything. I'm not sure where to go conversation wise after admitting what I just did.

"What is it like?" I ask suddenly. Her head cocks to the side.

"What? Being blind?"

"Yes…if you don't mind my asking."

"You tell me those horrid details of your life and think I'll be offended by that question?" She stands, unsteady on her feet slightly before walking across the room. I watch her hands caress the furniture as she moves, feeling her way towards a chest of drawers. She touches many handles before finding the one she needs and pulls it open, rummaging through the fabrics inside until she pulls a scrap of red cloth out. She then makes her way back to me, sitting somewhat closer than before.

I eye her curiously as she sits down, "Can you find your way through this whole house or just your room in this condition?"

She smiles, "The whole house…it took me two days…two days of darkness and endless clumsy accidents but I can now find my way if I need to." Her strength astounds me…for I'd have let the fear and misery swallow me whole if I were in her place.

"Now, you asked me what it is like…to live without sight." She begins to fold the scrap of red cloth…

"It is hard to describe, but losing my eyesight has allowed me to see far more than most people. Everything else sharpens…every sensation becomes more…potent…more alive, does that make sense?" I nod, not really sure, but not wanting her to stop explaining.

She shudders and her eyes glow white, then she is looking at me…really looking at me, "Hi" She says softly.

I can't help the smile that stretches my lips as I realize she can see again, "Hello" I look down at the red band across her lap, "How does that spell work?"

"I honestly don't know…it's a permanent thing most of the time…it only stops when I am weak." Her eyes darken and her smile fades…I ache for its return, "That was how they knew I was a mage…I told my mother her dress was pretty."

"So you were born blind?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry."

She smiles again and the world rights itself, "Don't be…now here." She lifts the red band towards my face and it becomes a blindfold.

"Can you see?"

"No." I cannot imagine…living with this eternal black, it gives me chills.

"Okay…listen to the world around you." Her voice seems louder…the air around me gets colder. I hear the hiss and pops from the fire like thunder.

"Everything is loud…" I mumble and my voice seems deafening in my own head.

"Yes…it takes some getting used to." I hear her move closer, and soon she is right before me…

"Now…feel." I feel the carpet below me…the heat of her body so near mine. These things had escaped my notice before…but are now sharp and clear, as if someone has turned up the background sensations and noises to eclipse all else.

Suddenly her hands are on my forearms and it makes me jump.

"Do you understand now? Everything else comes into focus and you end up experiencing more than when you could see."

She is so close…I can feel her warm breath against me, her mouth must be inches from mine…it's too much…three years…I can't take it anymore…

She stiffens as my mouth finds hers, the kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated due to the fact that the blindfold is still in place, but soon she relaxes and cradles my face and I'm gone…lost to the sensation.

Her lips are warm against mine and so incredibly soft…her arms wrap around my neck as I pull her closer, until she is in my lap.

Her tongue dances with mine and I growl softly into her mouth, my hands snaking into her hair as I bite along her jaw and neck, it is not gentle…it's awkward and somewhat savage as I still can't see her…this soon causes me to growl in irritation.

She gives a low laugh in response and this sends a tingling warmth straight through me to my core as she unfastens the cloth, and soon I see her…

Her pale skin is flushed with desire, her moonlike eyes half lidded. Her luscious red lips are parted, somewhat swollen from kissing…

Her eyes then widen and we stare at each other…as if seeing the other for the first time.

"I…I…" She seems at a loss for words…somewhat dazed and I would be lying if I denied it didn't stroke my male ego to know it was I who caused her current state.

Her hand cups my jaw, her forehead is now against mine, "Are…you sure about this?" Her voice is frail, insecure…

I contemplate lying to her…telling her yes, without a doubt. In the end I've never lied to her…and I'm not about to start now.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore" I answer truthfully before I devour her mouth again.

I want to make it perfectly clear here…that if I had had any idea of what would occur during our joining…I would have never…Hawke is not a woman to be used…Alright, I don't know what would have happened differently, or even if I would have changed it…the only reason I entertain the thought now is because my one regret was not of being with her…it was of causing her pain. Pain she never deserved…I was a fool…a coward, and I harmed us both far more than I should have.

. . .

I feel sick…ill…I wish to vomit.

The rain has stopped, but instead of being happy about it I mourn its loss, the sunlight just feels…wrong.

My body aches for her warmth, just as sorrow invades my soul. I shouldn't have…shouldn't have done that. Should never have allowed her so close for now I've destroyed something beautiful and I hate myself for it.

There is the irritating itch of fabric rubbing against my markings and I look down at my wrist. It was a stupid, foolish sentimental desire…to keep something of that night, but the red cloth was there…right on the floor where she'd tossed it…and I just took it without thinking. It was a tool used to understand her better…

I'm not really sure why it is now wrapped around my wrist, but I can't remove it.

. . .

"Orana…" the young girl jumps at my voice, spinning around to face me.

"Master Fenris! I didn't see you there…"

"I am no master Orana, I was once a slave just as you were, please stop calling me that."

"O-okay…did you need something?"

It is stupid…I am stupid, I shouldn't be doing this…but I doubt Hawke knows enough of Tevinter slave culture to understand this gesture…Orana however does.

"I need…" I struggle to voice my request, "I need an Amell crest…"

Orana gives me a puzzled look, "A crest, what for-" Her eyes go wide, "Oooohhh…" She smiles in understanding before gesturing for me to wait outside.

In Tevinter…there are a few households where a Master and a slave will form a bond. They become close…and to show this relationship status the slave will wear the master's House Crest along with whatever favor they have been given. This can be anything from jewelry to…well…to a simple red scarf.

I figured I already have the crimson shackle, why not make it official?

"Here you go!" She startles me out of my thoughts, holding the small metal shield like symbol out to me; it is about as large as my palm. The red crest glares up at me as I attach it to my belt, "Thank you Orana…please do not tell her about this?"

Her wide green eyes grow wider, "Why ever not Mast- Fenris?"

"Please…just don't tell her."

The girl nods, "I will keep it to myself Serah." She bows slightly before returning into the house.

And now here I am…standing before her as we prepare for a job, watching as her eyes widen at the crest, before her gaze settles on the scarf…those orbs of liquid moonlight fill with tears and she bites her lower lip…before turning to Varric.

She catches the significance…but doesn't know the full meaning. I hope it is enough to let her know…this…this was not her fault.

. . .

I have never considered the mages' plight, never once tried to see things from their side. I have viewed them with bitterness and hatred for all my life and had no desire to see life through their eyes…that was…until I fell in love with one.

We are at the Hanged Man when it happens…a surprise raid on the tavern; Meredith has been cracking down even harder on this city, convinced Blood Mages are everywhere.

The room is flooded with the holy knights, and Imoen shivers at my side. Things would be fine if it weren't for her blind eyes…the magic needed to keep her seeing will most certainly alert them. They can sense magic from great distances…

I do not think, do not plan…I just run. I grip her to me and dash out of that room as if it were the fiery pits of hell.

This was a mistake for I do not know the layout of the Hanged Man as I should, and I ran into the back rooms…not the exit.

We find a vacant hall closet and I throw us into it, slamming the door shut just as I hear the thuds of templar boots ascend the stairs.

Imoen is shaking…crying…whispering her fear. Her eyes are frantic as she looks at me, "Don't let them take me…I don't want to leave you…please don't let them take me…" She's panting now, out of breath and it sounds like she can't get enough air, "I don't want to go…I don't want to go Fenris…please don't let them take me!"

I pull her to me, pressing her face into my shoulder, mainly to comfort her, but to also stifle her sobs…

"Imoen Hawke…listen to me." I murmur as quietly as possible, she stills at the commanding tone in my voice, "I promise you…with every fiber of my being…to do everything in my power to keep you free. They will not harm you, nor take you anywhere…I will rip out all their hearts first." My voice trails off into a feral growl in her ear and her grip on me tightens.

I am conflicted. Knowing that the main reason for the templars is a good one, but the fear in my Imoen's eyes…and yes, she is MINE…but that fear, I have seen it before…in the eyes of every new shipment of slaves brought to House Denarius.

Mages are chained just as much if not more than I…and I never realized this until now.

I will never admit this to anyone aloud…and I know it makes me a hypocrite, but I take back every hateful insult I have ever spat at the abominatio- at Anders. I take it all back as I hold her trembling form to me…kissing her softly and whispering in Tevinter until the templars move on.

. . .

I ache…

Maker my bones are screaming in agony and it is all I can do to hold back the cries of pain and suffering…

I hate war hammers…any blunt weapon really, blades are much easier to handle and recover from. Those Wounded Coast bandits…they don't seem to like swords…

I strip myself of my dented and ruined armor, examining my lyrium tainted flesh to find the white lines marred by dark bruises…so dark they are almost black. They stretch from low on my hip all the way up my torso, branching out over my heart. Just seeing them makes me groan.

I try to stand straight and howl in pain, clutching my ribs as I fall to my knees.

"Fenris!" Oh that voice…how I adore that voice…

She finds me, curled up in pain before the fire and falls beside me, lifting my chin until I can look at her, "Why didn't you say anything you foolish elf?"

I force myself to smile through the pain, "Didn't want to worry you…"

Imoen scoffs and delivers one of her harshest glares, though in all honesty it is as effective as a kitten hissing…more adorable than frightening.

She moves me, turning me until my back is against her chest, her legs on either side of my waist.

"What are you doing?"

"Hold still please, Fenris…" Her palms glow white as she runs her hands down my chest…I shiver slightly at the contact, feeling desire begin to stir…

My skin burns and it is both soothing and painful as she mends my ribs, soon I can breathe easily, and even stand upright again. As we straighten I turn and wrap her in my arms, kissing her forehead.

"I can't heal the bruises…cuts yes…but not bruises. I'm still learning…"

I look down at her and smile, "I don't feel them…"

"Oh?" She smiles before her lips touch my neck, my hands slide down her shoulders to rest at the small of her back as her lips trail down my chest…Imoen placing the softest kisses on each dark blotch on my skin.

"What are you doing?" I ask hoarsely, the softness of her lips is driving me insane.

She looks up at me as her mouth hovers above my abdomen, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she licks her lips, nuzzling my stomach, "Kissing it and making it better." She purrs.

. . .

The harsh slap against my chest is what wakes me…it takes a moment to realize she is screaming. Her body flails and writhes against the mattress…she's caught in the deepest of nightmares…

Her high pitched keening wails echo around the room and for a moment I am frozen in place…unsure of what to do.

She screams again, her back arching off the bed with the strength of her cries and I lose it.

"IMOEN!" I cry as I hold her down, my face right above her own, our noses touching. She does not respond and I realize with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach what I must do.

The slap delivered is harsh and her face whips to the side…I hate myself…

Her eyes snap open and she cries out again, but this time I am there.

"Shh…shhhh I'm here…" My hands cradle her face; I cringe as her cheek turns red in the shape of my hand.

"Fenris?" She whimpers. I press my lips to her forehead, my free hand pulling her flush against me.

"I'm here Imoen, right here…" I don't know what else to say…she's never dreamed like this…

She buries her face in my neck and cries, heart wrenching broken sobs and all I can hear out of them is one word…'Momma.'

I close my eyes and kiss the top of her head as she clings to me, shivering all over.

I do my best to comfort her…making sure she knows she isn't alone, I never knew my mother…all memory of the woman erased by the markings. I do not know what to say to Imoen…

I had thought these nightmares were done…but it seems I was wrong, though it has been three years since her mother's death she is still haunted by it.

"Fenris…" She sobs, clutching me even tighter. I realize she doesn't need words…doesn't need comforting expressions like 'death is only a journey'…she needs me, just me.

It's nice to be needed.

. . .

The battle was horrendous…so much blood…all of us are still soaked with it.

We are running, fugitives following a terrorist…I have to struggle to bite back the bitter words sticking in my throat, Imoen would not appreciate them.

No I am not upset at Anders because of his magic…I am scared for Imoen. We are on the run again…and I don't know if I can protect her from this…her kind has just waged war on the beings of order and reason throughout Thedas. How can I defend her from a war?

I do not want this for us…I do not want to be on the run again…not with my Imoen, she doesn't deserve to be a fugitive, she deserves to be a queen…

Still we run…aiming to put as much distance between ourselves and Kirkwall as we can before nightfall. She is heavy in my arms but I do not care…she is safe for now and she is free of templar hands.

My heart was in my throat the entire time Cullen kept us at the Gallows…

"Fenris…" she whispers to me, her lips briefly touching my neck.

I answer in the softest of Tevinter endearments and she smiles, "I love you…" She murmurs against my skin.

That one statement puts it all back into perspective for me…we will be fine…I'll make sure of it. She will not fall prey to this war, the abomination can handle that himself…no Imoen will be safe with me even if we have to hide underground.

"I love you too Imoen."


End file.
